


Duckvine Intervention

by clarityhiding



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - No Capes, JayTimBINGO2019, M/M, Rubber Ducks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: After Roy explains the purpose a rubber duck for computer programmers, Jason decides he has to try it out for himself. Granted, he's not a programmer, but he's hardly going to let that stop him, and everyone needs a little troubleshooting in their lives sometimes.





	Duckvine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> A last-minute fill for Week 1: Mythology of JayTim Month(ish)! Thanks to njw and ayzenigma for beta-ing, to salazarastark for the excellent title suggestion, and to shmoo and ayzenigma for help with programming lingo.
> 
> Anyway, [rubber duck debugging](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubber_duck_debugging) is a thing and I think it's glorious.

"I see Lian's leaving her toys all over the place again," Jason says, picking up the rubber duck from where it's nestled next to Roy's computer tower. "Want me to put it back in the bathroom?"

"Actually," Roy says, plucking it from his hand and returning it to the desk, "that's mine and it's supposed to be there. It's a programmer trick—you keep a rubber duck around to explain your code to, and it helps you work out what's going wrong."

"Huh," Jason says. "What kind of idiot thought that up?"

* * *

The thing is, Jason actually has quite a few rubber ducks of his own, all of them gifts from various students over the years, and each and every one of them another silly novelty duck. William Shakesduck, Emily Duckinson, Charles Duckens, Sir Arthur Conan Duck, and, of course, Jane Quacksten proudly carrying her copy of _Pond & Prejudice_. There's also Andrew Lloyd Web-er, a present from one very confused but well-meaning freshmen. After that, Jason took all of the ducks home and stopped keeping them along the edge of his desk in the classroom.

They're now supposed to live on a shelf in his bathroom next to the tub, but somehow they always end up wandering elsewhere every time Roy visits with Lian. Probably Jason should see about stocking some other kinds of age-appropriate toys for her to play with, but he honestly doesn't see the point. She's pretty good when it comes to keeping herself occupied while her daddy nurses along Jason's aging laptop in exchange for home-cooked meals.

Anyway. The point of the matter is that Jason has a lot of ducks that aren't doing much aside from occasionally entertaining his honorary niece. It's about time they stepped up and began pulling their own weight around here. What better way for them to do that than by helping him work out the plot issues with the short story he's been struggling with for the better part of the past month?

He grabs the first duck he can find—Emily, solid if a little flighty—and goes to dig out his computer. Time to see if there's anything to Roy's claims of the fundamental usefulness of a rubber duck.

* * *

"Thanks, by the way," Jason says the next time he sees Roy. Nearly a month has passed and they're waiting for Lian to find her other shoe before heading out to the park for the day. Jason's tagging along to keep the single moms off Roy's back since apparently 'not interested' doesn't go far when you've already proven yourself to be a very capable provider for your five-year-old.

"You're welcome," Roy replies automatically. It's to be expected, drilling manners into a kid means improving your own whether you like it or not. "Wait, what did I do?"

"The rubber duck," Jason explains. "Sorry I laughed at you before, that shi—thing really works. I've finished two short stories and gotten a head start on the new book, my editor's over the moon and threatening to send me an entire crate of the da—nged things if it means I'm always this productive."

"I don't know about productive, but the duck definitely works for debugging code. Unlike certain small, impatient humans."

As if summoned, Lian comes bounding into the room. "Found my shoe, Daddy! C'mon, let's _go!_"

With a laugh, Roy grabs his backpack and her hand, and they head out the door.

* * *

Five, six months in, Jason gets so used to talking to the ducks that he sometimes finds himself doing it even when he's not writing. Roy would likely say it's a sign he's not getting out enough, while Kyle would probably say it means he's ready to start dating again. Personally, Jason thinks it's nothing that couldn't be solved with a dog or a cat or any kind of animal companion. Unfortunately, his building has a rule against all pets, even the finned kind after an unpleasant incident with an oversized eel in someone's bathtub several years ago. For now, he's stuck with rubber ducks.

"It's not that I mind," he explains to Andrew Lloyd Web-er, exiled to the bathroom on account of being too silly for serious prose work. "Dogs are a lot of work, and I really don't have enough room for one around here. Just… might be nice to have someone respond every now and then," he says and promptly gets a mouthful of soap as something drops from the ceiling and sends a wave of water into his face.

"It's wet!" the something exclaims.

"Damn right it's wet—what the hell are you doing in my bath?!" Jason demands, glaring at the man at the other end of his tub who definitely wasn't there a moment ago.

"And you're very naked," the man squeaks, slapping a hand over his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were naked!"

"Of course I'm naked—what kind of idiot wears clothes in the bath?" Though even as he says it, Jason sees the man seems to be wearing a very soggy yellow hoodie and garishly orange skinny jeans. Though that actually makes sense, considering how he _fell from the ceiling and all._

"Just—normally people are at computers when they call me! I'm not used to—to this!" The man gestures wildly with the hand that's not over his eyes and manages to thwack the tile wall hard enough that it makes a sickening meaty sound. "Ow!"

Jason sighs. He has no idea what's going on, but clearly his plan of having a nice, relaxing post-school year bath is just not going to work out today. Standing up, he steps out of the tub and grabs his towel, wrapping it around his waist. After a moment's hesitation, he digs a second one out from under the sink. "Hey, you want to dry off? Or are you planning to just sit fully-dressed in my tub all day? I swear I'm decent now."

The guy cautiously spreads his fingers to peek out, then lowers his hand and stands, apparently taking half the water in the tub with him from the way he drips. "Sorry! I don't—this has honestly never happened to me before, it's my first time manifesting." He tentatively tries to squeeze a little water out of his hoodie, then shrugs and pulls it off entirely, revealing a worn T-shirt underneath. Jason squints at the design—he's pretty sure it's some kind of stupid computer pun, he's seen Roy wear the same thing before.

"Riiight," he says, drawing out the word as he offers the towel. "And who are you again?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm the Troubleshooter—I'm the one people talk to, when they talk to rubber ducks."

"You're the duck god." Jason really should be finding this a lot harder to believe, but the guy _did_ just fall from thin air into his bath.

The guy winces. "That's really not… I hear it whether people talk to ducks or each other, or anything really. Just, whenever they're trying to work their way through a problem, I'm there."

"Troubleshooter—" He pauses, hesitating. "Are you sure you don't have some other name? That's a bit of a mouthful."

"Well. There are those who call me… Tim?"

Jason narrows his eyes. He should have expected this from some nerd god. "Fine, Tim it is. Now—what the _hell_ did you think you were doing, falling in my bath?"

"I told you, I troubleshoot—I help people figure out what's going wrong and find a solution. You wanted someone who would respond, so…" He shrugs.

"So you just figured you'd show up, out of the blue?! Hate to be the one to break this to you, but humans are _not_ used to this kind of thing." Not anymore, at least. If you go by stuff like the _Iliad_, this kind of thing used to happen all the time in ancient times.

"Well, to be honest, I also wanted to meet you. I usually just get stuff like stack overflow and 'where the hell did this null come from?.' It's been a nice change of pace to help you with your plot holes," Tim says, dabbing uselessly at his soaked jeans. His sneakers make wet squishy noises every time he shifts, but he makes no move to take them off. Jason's starting to think he has to be a god if for no other reason than his complete inability to function in the real world.

"You didn't help me with shit," Jason insists, because it rubs him the wrong way that this complete stranger is trying to take credit for his work. "I just talked myself through them and worked them out on my own."

"Just talked your way through problems you hadn't found a solution to on your own despite countless hours of trying to come up with a solution?" Tim leaves off his dabbing to fix him with a pointed look. "Jason, I may be primarily tasked with helping computer programmers, but I'd like to think that as the child of Invention and Ingenuity, I have at least some idea of what to whisper in someone's ear to help them dig themselves out of a plot hole."

Jason's pretty sure he doesn't remember some tiny dude saying anything to him, but Tim may have a point. He's gotten a lot more done since he began talking to the ducks, and has stopped getting stuck on silly bits of plot as well. "Alright, maybe you helped a little," he allows. "Still doesn't excuse you dropping in on me in the bath of all places."

"I told you, I didn't know you were naked! Mostly I just hear what the duck hears and offer advice—I'm not old enough or strong enough yet to really get 24/7 Mortal Realm Vision yet."

Which is both distressing and something of a relief—Jason isn't sure how he feels about deities being able to look in on his business at any time, but at least he knows the one that's apparently been the most focused on him hasn't seen anything. Well—until now, at least. "Welp, you've seen me, we've met—you can go now."

"But if I leave, I won't have fulfilled your request," Tim insists with such earnestness that Jason feels a little guilty about trying to run him off. "You're lonely and you want someone who can respond when you talk to them. Since I can't animate the ducks, I figured I could visit you and give you the next best thing."

Talking rubber ducks? Yikes, he's pretty glad Tim isn't capable of that, since it sounds like the set-up for some low-budget horror flick. "For the record, I was thinking something more along the lines of a cat. And believe it or not, I do have friends—if I really want direct input, I can just talk to one of them. So, thanks for your concern, I guess, but you can go now."

"Oh, ah. Actually, see, that's the thing." Tim shifts nervously, squeezing the towel in his hands. "Remember how I said this is my first time taking corporeal form? And I don't really have Mortal Realm Vision yet? Well, I'm not actually supposed to be able to do the former without first having the latter, so…"

"So?" Jason asks, though he has a sinking feeling he knows exactly what Tim's getting at.

"So I may not know how to _de_-corporealize? Exactly? Like, I've been trying to do the opposite of what I did to get here, but I'm not entirely sure how I got here in the first place, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind putting me up for a bit? Just until I get this whole thing figured out."

* * *

As much as he doesn't want to give in, Jason hasn't spent the last seven years teaching a bunch of teens why Shakespeare is cool to not have developed a peskily annoying tendency to fall for tragic sob stories. He's pretty sure Tim counts as older than any of his charges—if gods even have ages as comprehended by mortals—but the guy's tiny and pathetic and he'd feel like the worst kind of monster if he kicked him out now. Plus, if he's actually been helping Jason with his writing as much as he claims he has, that's practically like contributing to the rent, right?

Through a distressing comedy of errors involving Tim practically having a permanent blush for nearly a whole hour, they eventually end up dressed in clean, dry clothes. Granted, Tim's practically swimming in Jason's shirt and sweats, but even he's a little too big for the change of Lian's clothes that is stashed away in case of an emergency.

"Can't you just… make yourself taller? You're a god, after all."

"A very minor god whose worshippers mainly envision him as a rubber duck if they think of him," Tim counters. "I'm lucky I look human at all, when it comes down to it."

"Wait, does this mean that you're more similar to a duck than a person under the clothes? Are you hollow on the inside? Will you squeak if I squeeze you?" Jason nearly asks if he's rubber as well, but somehow such a question feels like it would be an invasion of Tim's privacy.

"Of course I'll squeak! Everyone squeaks if you squeeze them too hard," Tim says, batting away Jason's prodding fingers. "As for the rest—I have no idea. I'm a god, I'm made up of—of human dreams and wishes and the whims of the cosmos. It's all very existential, though apparently we're human enough in terms of basics, since I've got relatives who've had kids with humans," he adds, his ears going bright red.

"Not you?" Jason teases, more so he can see Tim look flustered than because he thinks it's a possibility.

"No, of course not! This is my first time in the Mortal Realm and I've never—I mean. I haven't even really been around for a century, you know. I'm too young to be thinking about _kids_."

"Yeah, about that—what's that in mortal time?" Jason wants to know, because if he's going to have some strange person hanging around for an unknown period of time, he'd like to at least have an idea of what kind of maturity level he should expect here. "See, a century is pretty long for us humans, but clearly it doesn't mean as much for you in terms of age."

"Our age is more determined by a combination of how long we've been worshiped and how much power we've accrued. I've got a brother who's younger than me but is probably going to end up older in the long run on account of how he gets a _lot_ more worship." Tim narrows his eyes, his hands balling into fists in the too-big sleeves of Jason's shirt. "Stupid little internet troll."

"There's a god of internet trolls?" He doesn't want to believe it, but somehow Jason really isn't surprised.

"Well, no. He's more the Internet in general, but you understand he gets a lot more interest than a god whose only use is helping people out when they get stuck. It's really annoying knowing that my little brother is going to be my big brother sooner or later, though."

"Hey," Jason says, reaching over to squeeze Tim's shoulder. "Helping people is never something to be ashamed of. And if it weren't for your help, I bet the internet wouldn't work nearly as well as it does, let alone the computers that run it. If your brother doesn't realize how much he owes his existence you, that's on him, not you. Never feel ashamed of what you are."

Tim stares at him, blue eyes gone wide. "T-thanks, Jason! I'll try and remember that next time he tries to knife me in my sleep."

"Wait, _what?!_"

* * *

"You got a boyfriend?" Roy asks under his breath as he stares at Tim, currently sitting on the floor, drawing pictures with Lian.

"More like a temporary roommate. Either way, Tim's promised to watch Lian while you help me with this," Jason explains, pulling on his jacket. "He's very trustworthy and he doesn't even want money for it. Sees it as a way for him to repay my letting him stay for a while."

"I dunno. I get that you trust him, but I've never heard of this guy before and I don't even know his last name."

"It's Drake," Tim says, lifting his head. "My last name, I mean. I promise your daughter will come to no harm under my watch, Roy Harper. You have my word."

"See? You have his word, don't tell me you aren't going to trust him now—you'll break his little heart and then you'll get the puppy dog eyes. They're lethal and you won't survive them," Jason tells him, dragging Roy out the door and double-checking to make sure he's locked it behind them.

"How do you even _know_ this guy? He a friend of Kyle's?" Roy demands. Which, actually… 

"Something like that. He dropped in out of the blue one day, stranded in the city. Doesn't really know anyone here, so I agreed to help him out," Jason says, crossing his fingers in his pocket. If Tim's akin to a sort of modern-day muse, he must help out artists sometimes, right? So he could be said to be a friend of Jason's graphic designer ex, conveniently located in a completely different state these days. "Now, c'mon—you've been bugging me to get a new computer for _years_, I don't know why you're not more excited about helping me with this."

"Just—you're sure Lian'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Jason says, glancing back at the door. "Tim's an alright guy."

* * *

The way Jason figures, if he has a computer that's actually capable of doing more on the internet than just sending and receiving email, that should make it extra-easy for Tim to get in touch with his little brother.

"I don't think you understand just how much the little gremlin hates me," Tim cautions as he sits down in front of the spanking new machine that Roy helped to set up. "There's a good chance he won't even notice me trying to get his attention, and even if he does, there's an even better chance he'll never tell our dad that I'm stuck."

"You couldn't have mentioned this before I shelled out for a new machine," Jason gripes, pulling up a chair beside him. It's been a few days since Tim first arrived and they've acquired actual clothing in his size, but he seems to have decided to permanently replace his bright yellow hoodie with Jason's old Gotham U sweatshirt.

"Jason, your laptop was on its last legs. Not even I could keep it going for much longer, and I'm just about the best at computers there is."

"Not the very best? What, there some mortal better than you?"

"No, don't be silly. My older sister, on the other hand…" Tim grins at Jason and presses a key, the entire screen of the computer going a brilliant, green-white. It's so startling that he falls out of his chair, and so bright that he goes momentarily blind.

When he's finished blinking the spots out of his vision, a woman in a flowing robe and a smooth white mask is staring down at him. "Uh…"

"Why'd you do that? You could've seriously hurt him!" Tim complains, shoving the woman out of the way so he can kneel next to Jason. "Hey, are you okay? I'm so sorry about her, she's used to dealing with mortals with really swelled heads who have Views about women and computers, so she's not always as polite as she could be."

"It's cool. Just a little startled." He pushes himself upright, still too shaken to even think about not accepting Tim's help. "You could've given me some prior warning, you know."

"I didn't think she'd come so fast, to be honest," Tim whispers.

"Mortal," the goddess says, her voice strange and electronic to the point that it grates on Jason's ears. "Why have you taken our brother from us?"

"Oh, hey, no. I didn't 'take' anyone—Tim showed up on his own and couldn't figure out how to get back."

"It's true! I accidentally manifested. Sorry I didn't get in touch sooner, I was afraid I might break Jason's computer if I tried to channel any messages to the higher planes through it," Tim says, straightening somewhat but not letting go of Jason's arm.

The goddess relaxes somewhat, turning her attention to Tim. Even better, she removes the mask from her face, revealing a pretty if commanding redhead. "You're sure you're alright? We've all been really worried," she says in a much more normal voice, though there's still a power behind it that sends a shiver down Jason's spine. It's suddenly very, very clear what Tim was talking about when he mentioned power differences in the past.

"Yup! I was trying to grant Jason's request and messed it up, but he's been very nice about the whole thing." Tim flashes a smile, and his hand on Jason's arm tightens slightly.

"Wait, do you mean _Jason_-Jason? The school teacher you've been rambling on about for months now?" The goddess leans in, apparently examining Jason from head to toe. "Our father is quite traditional, mortal. He won't be pleased if you've begun courting our brother without first obtaining his blessing. If you've already compromised his virtue, even Tim's fondness for you won't protect you from his wrath."

"_Barbara_, you can't just—!" Tim shoves her back, glaring even as the tips of his ears turn a brilliant red. "Jason would never! He's been very polite and a complete gentleman after I dropped on him out of nowhere!"

"Uh huh. Because I see you two getting cozy here, and I'm sorry, kiddo, but you haven't been exactly quiet about the new worshipper you got and how this one is 'different' and 'special,"' Barbara says. "Honestly, I'm surprised no one thought to check here sooner when you went missing, but that was probably your mother's doing. Ingenuity is too cunning by half, sometimes."

"Er, not to interrupt this touching reunion, but I'd like to just say that there's no way I'd do anything Tim wasn't okay with. And I'd _definitely_ never try anything if I thought there was any chance he wasn't old enough to legitimately make that kind of decision for himself." Jason pauses, considers his options for a moment, then decides it's probably worth the risk. "Also, any god of Invention who's still hung up on his grown children's virtue to the point that he views it as something he has some kind of say over really needs to get with the times and realize this is the 21st century."

Barbara's face immediately relaxes and she smiles. "_Thank you_, I've been trying to tell him this for centuries and he _still_ refuses to listen. If I want to take a nice petitioner to bed, that's my decision, not his. He's just grumpy that he can't understand what half of us are specializing in these days and refuses to admit that he feels outdated. Which is silly, because you mortals are constantly inventing new things, and it _all_ falls under his purview."

"Ah, right," Jason says, a little thrown by her sudden change in tone. "Good thing Tim has you watching his back?" Though the more that they're on the subject, he's starting to regret that he pushed so hard to send Tim back as soon as possible.

"Someone has to, and he's technically just as much my responsibility as our father's." She reaches out and gently takes Tim's hand in hers, tugging him to his feet and forcing him to finally loosen his grip on Jason's arm. "Thank you, for looking after our brother. We know he can be a bit of a handful at times, and it must have been particularly shocking to have him appear when I'm sure you're not used to a godly presence in your life."

"He wasn't any trouble at all," Jason insists, awkwardly getting to his feet. "Kind of nice to have another person around the place, actually."

"Mmm," she says. "I'm sure. Come on, kiddo. Time to head home and face the music. I'm sure Bruce has a lovely lecture about over-stretching your limits all ready to go."

"Oh, but can't I—" Tim says even as he starts to fade out of existence. "Bye, Jason!"

Jason barely manages to sketch a wave before they're gone completely and he's alone once more. "…son of a—!" he exclaims, noticing Tim's bright yellow hoodie tossed on a nearby armchair. "He stole my sweatshirt."

* * *

Tim was only there for a few days, but Jason wasn't lying when he said it was nice having someone else around. He barely manages to make it a day before he's boxing things up, looking to find a new place to live, one that allows pets.

By the end of the week he's all moved into a new building, unpacking things and putting them away. The new apartment has as second bedroom, and while he has vague ideas of making it into an office, he's got a sleeping bag in the corner and has already had Lian spend the night once. She loves the idea of a room of her own, though she was more than a little confused by Jason's reaction to finding her wearing the bright yellow hoodie she pulled out of the closet.

There's still most of the summer left, and even though he feels like there's something missing, he spends a lot of it writing. It's not difficult, not like pulling teeth the way it sometimes is, but there's a certain empty quality to each word he writes, every line he composes.

"You're great," he says to Jane Quacksten one evening after he's finished plotting out the rest of the new book. "I just feel like I'd do better if I had a second set of eyes to look things over, let me know if I'm barking up the wrong tree."

"Well, if that's all it is, I may know a guy," Tim says, because suddenly he's standing at the end of the couch, still swimming in Jason's sweatshirt and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Jane the duck goes flying and before he knows it Jason's there, catching up Tim and twirling him around. "I thought—won't you get in trouble? How will you get back?"

"Let's just say that my parents have reassessed my situation and it seems there's a very good reason I was able to come to you before. Plus, Dad and his cronies are a bit more lenient when it comes to bending the rules for demigods," Tim says, beaming up at him.

"Demigods? But aren't you a full god?" Jason asks, momentarily confused.

"Sure, _I_ am. But it turns out you may not be fully human, which would be why your petitions were particularly loud when I heard them. Anyway, best to send a familiar face to get you into the swing of things, they decided."

"Oh." Jason's stomach twists and he isn't entirely sure how he feels about this news. If Tim's just here to take care of some unfinished godly business…. His hands drop to his sides and he takes a step back. "If I'm part god, it's never been a problem for me before. You didn't need to come."

"Stop being an ass and accept that we've got a good reason to see each other a whole lot more," Tim scolds, stepping right back into his space and slinging his arms around Jason's neck, drawing him down. "After all, I can only use the excuse that I forgot my jacket so many times before Barbara stops covering for me."

"Fair point," Jason acknowledges. The worrying can wait for later. For now, he has a god to worship.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or educational publishing), history fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart. Also, because I am an actual human being with opinions of my own, sometimes I post or reblog things that reflect those opinions. If you can't handle the idea of someone existing in the universe and possessing opinions which differ from your own, you probably should not click on that link.


End file.
